Lips like morphine
by ThoseGeordieBoys
Summary: Ant/Dec - Something stirs emotions Between the boys whilst they are back in Newcastle for Dec's sister's wedding.
1. Chapter 1

With hushed whispers and glazed eyes both men crept through the front door of the Donnelly family home. It was the early hours of a Sunday morning and the sky had already begun to accommodate the first dull, orange tints of dawn. The boys had arrived back in Newcastle two days beforehand, having returned for Declan's sister's wedding; an eagerly anticipated event that was fast approaching with a countdown left of only five days. Throwing their jackets over the banister of the stairs Ant couldn't help but allow a drunken chuckle to escape his lips as lose change that had long since been forgotten came hailing from an open pocket of Dec's discarded jacket.

"Dec, man. You're losin' money all over the place!" Ant laughed, stood steady in his place, one hand resting against the wall in an effort to to keep himself upright as his other arm stretched out in front of him, pointing down at the quids and copper strewn across the carpet of the hallway. Dec was less than interested, having already made his way into the kitchen, he was currently throwing open cupboard doors and peering inside in search of the whiskey he knew his father kept hidden away for those rainy days. "What're you doin' like? Gonna make us some scran?" Ant asked, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

"Don't be daft man, when have you ever known us to cook anythin'?" Dec smiled over his shoulder, another cupboard door creaking as it was thrown open. "This is what I was after like!" the shorter man grinned, pulling the dusty bottle of Jameson's from behind what Dec would happily wager to be cereal older than their career. Ant caught site of the bottle and felt the first subtle pound of what he knew was going to be the mother of all hangovers. To say the boys were drunk would be an understatement; ratted, shit-faced, bladdered, arse-holed, absolutely twatted… Ant would have taken any of those over drunk because that was exactly the way both men felt and yet here was Dec, pint sized and pie-eyed, pouring himself and his best friend of twenty four years another drink.

"Haway, Dec. Do ye really think we should carry on drinkin', man? It's already…" Ant glanced down at his watch, blurred vision making it difficult to decipher the jumble of numbers. "Uh… about four in the mornin'?"

Dec giggled, a wide and mischievous grin spread across his face as he shoved a half full glass in Ant's direction. "Don't be a spoil sport, Ant. One more."

Dec hadn't intended to return home so completely and utterly smashed but a couple of drinks had turned into four and four into eight and so on; his best friend's incessant purchasing of Sambuca shots hadn't made things any better either but the booze helped. The booze helped Dec to forget the constant ache and the internal struggle he had to deal with day after day, night after night and hour after hour when it came to having his best friend so close. Dec found it easy to hide for the most part, he'd smile and laugh at the right times, play off every touch as though it was all some joke and every so often he'd turn away for a second if it all hurt a little too much but when they were out and the drinks were coming full and fast, Dec found that he could let himself go and dull the nagging pain if only for the night.

"I cannat believe your Moyra's gettin' married, man." Ant spoke with a sigh and a disbelieving shake of his head, breaking Dec from his thoughts and bringing his glass to his lips, taking a sip and savouring the subtle burn of the cold, amber liquid.

"Aye." Dec sighed, his gaze somewhat distant and pensive. "Just me to go now, like. Not that it's ever likely to happen… not after Clare." Dec took a large swig of his drink in an effort to stop the telltale lump that had suddenly begun rising in his throat.

Ant wasn't entirely sure when the night had taken such a dramatic turn for the two of them; one minute they were falling over one another and laughing like children coming down the garden path to Dec's family home and the next they were here, sat around the kitchen table, each with a VIP invite to Declan Donnelly's pity party. He could have kicked himself, Ant knew how Dec could get if he drank too much; easily irritated and over emotional. Ant should have known better. He shifted in his seat, reaching across the table to place a warm and comforting hand on his best friend's arm. "Come on mate, what's all this about, aye? You're a beltin' lad. Anyone'd be lucky to have ye."

Dec's gaze was no longer fixated on the ice cubes clinking against the crystal confines of his glass. His eyes were on Ant's, matching his friend's questioning glare. "Ye cannat go sayin' things like that, Ant!" Dec growled in frustration, pulling his arm from Ant's grasp and standing up.

"What? Sayin' things like what, Declan?" Ant was dumbfounded, completely confused and clearly out of the loop with whatever it was that his best friend was going through. Had he missed something? Said something wrong? Done something to upset the other man?  
Dec leant against the kitchen counter, his head in his hands as he desperately held back tears. He drew in a long breath and spoke.

"Ye cannat just go tellin' me that anyone'd be lucky to have me, that I'm someone to want and makin' me feel like that; makin' me feel like I….." He broke off, voice cracking and the first flood of tears rushing down flushed, pink cheeks.

Ant was out of his seat in seconds, enveloping the shorter man in a warm embrace. Dec's head felt heavy against his shoulder and Ant found himself absent mindedly stroking a hand through his friend's hair, soothing him and whispering quietly that everything would be fine. "It's alright, Dec. I've got ye, mate. I'm here and I'm not gannin' anywhere, alright?"  
He felt Dec nod against his shoulder as another sob wracked through his body. Ant instinctively wound his arms tighter around his friend and placed a small kiss atop his head; he was the perfect height for things like that, all the small kisses and cuddles, the sly touches. Soon enough he felt Dec pull back ever so slightly, the kiss having seemingly calmed him somewhat. "You alright?" Ant asked, now looking down at his best friend, all red eyes and a runny nose. Dec nodded and drew in a shuddered breath. "Make ye feel like what, Declan?" Ant asked.

"Like… like I'd ever have a chance." Dec croaked.  
Ant looked worried, borderline panicked even and Dec couldn't blame him; it isn't every day that your best friend has a spontaneous breakdown at four am in the kitchen of his childhood home but Dec was grateful. He was grateful that Ant had been there, that without question he had pulled him close and just held him.

Ant could feel his heart racing, he could feel every pulse of blood coursing through his veins and standing there, in that dimly lit kitchen at four am, looking at Dec through drunken, bleary eyes, it sparked something. Ant wasn't sure what it had sparked exactly but whatever it was it had finally pushed him to the edge and he was ready to take that daunting leap of faith. With Dec looking up at him, concern and confusion etched across that perfect face, Ant leant down, his hands coming to rest on the small of Dec's back as he pulled him up into a kiss. He watched as Dec's expression changed from confusion to content in a matter of seconds, their mouths meeting and their eyes slipping shut as they each savoured the feeling of the other, close, warm and desperate.  
Hands began to rome and Dec could feel the refreshing cool of Ant's hand slipping beneath the fabric of his shirt, allowing his fingers to dance across Dec's spine just stroking and caressing the warm skin. The house was silent now, nothing but the hum of the kitchen light and the two men exploring one another's mouths to be heard. "Are ye sure about this?" Dec asked, as he broke from the kiss, breathless and panting.

Ant smirked, gazing down at the shorter man who was all tousled hair and kiss swollen lips. "Never been more sure of anything in me life."


	2. Chapter 2

It was early afternoon before either boy stirred, heavy eyelids and throbbing headaches alike. It was the obnoxious whirring of the hoover out in the hall that had initially drawn Dec from the comfort of his old, single bed; rickety as it may be, the toon army bedsheets were fresh on and currently in a discarded heap around Ant's bare legs. The two had decided to call it a night shortly after their drunken, four am fumble. Dec had asked Ant to stay the night with him, an innocent request that had resulted in the two men stripping down to their boxers and crawling into Dec's single bed, a mass of tangled limbs and tired eyes.

Dec brought his hands up to rub at his face, inarguably tired and in desperate need of a few more hours sleep. A yawn escaped him as he rummaged his wardrobe for an old pair of pyjama bottoms or joggers to pull on before slipping quietly from his bedroom and down the stairs in a last ditch effort not to wake his sleeping companion. "You woke us up with that racket!" Dec moaned, passing his mother in the hallway, hoover in hand and a smile on her face.

"The world doesn't stop just 'cause you're in bed, pet." Anne chimed. "No Ant?" she asked. Dec grunted an incoherent and entirely non-committal reply before venturing through into the kitchen and flipping the switch on the kettle. Declan Donnelly had never been a morning person, although granted; it was currently 12:42pm on a Monday afternoon but ever since he could remember he had never held the ability to function properly before a decent cuppa and a slice of toast. The dusty thudding in Dec's head was all but subtle and he vowed, for what must have been the millionth time that he was never drinking again. "Are ye wantin' some toast to go with that?" Anne smiled. Anne could read her youngest son like a book, she knew her Declan inside out and upside down; he was her baby after all and if there was one thing her baby had always liked on a morning it was a cuppa tea with two sugars and a slice of toast.

Dec yawned again, giving his mother a sleepy smile he nodded. "Thanks mam."

Ant's first glimpses of that early Monday afternoon were laced with the the dull ache of a hangover. Closing his eyes almost as quickly as he had opened them, Ant resolved to never lift his eyelids again; the promise of further pain more than apparent should he ever attempt it. Rolling onto his back Ant sighed, his thoughts creeping back to the night before; Dec had been a mess, an absolute train wreck and Ant couldn't help but feel like the guilty party. How had he been so blissfully unaware all these years? How had he missed the signs? It had pained Ant to see his best friend in such a state, so broken and helpless. He remembered the way Dec was shaking when he wrapped his arms around the smaller man, pulling him close and threading his fingers through his hair. Ant had never seen him like that and it took everything he had not to break down beside him.

The bedroom door was shoved open with an un-oiled groan as Dec re entered, two mugs of tea and a slice of toast hanging from his mouth. Ant couldn't help but grin; Dec's bed hair and pyjama bottoms were nothing new to the other man but there was something about this morning, something about the way Dec looked that made Ant forget the dull, aching thud at the back of his skull for a second. "Mornin'" Ant croaked, pushing himself up into a sitting position. Dec set the mugs down on the bedside table and took a bite out of his toast.

"Mornin', how ye feelin, like?" Dec asked through a mouthful of toast.

"Rough." Ant yawned. "What about you after last night?"

Dec shrugged in response. Awkward, vulnerable, conflicted; Dec felt a number of things, none of which he was sure he wanted to offload onto the man sitting opposite him. "D'ye regret it, like? Any of it?" Dec mumbled, his eyes glued to the frayed edges of his old, blue bedroom carpet; desperate to avoid Ant's gaze.

"Don't be daft, man. Why would I regret it? I may have been drunk, Declan but I'm not an idiot." It was clear that what Dec feared was the rejection. The cold, harsh words that would leave the shorter of the duo alone and helpless; broken with nobody there to fix him. Ant knew this, he knew Dec, his Dec and Ant had no intention of ever being without him.

Ant watched as Dec visibly relaxed. His face softened and Dec even managed to tear his eyes away from his fraying carpet to meet his friend's gaze. Both boys smiled at one another, hangovers and sleep deprivation long forgotten as they lost themselves in one another. Leaning forward Dec was the first to break the pent up tension with a kiss. It was short and soft, almost shy and some what uncertain. Ant brushed his knuckles along Dec's jaw, his hand coming to cup the other man's face as he drew him back in. Their mouths met again in a kiss that was everything they had wanted and needed from one another all along. Ant could taste the butter from Dec's toast on his friend's lips as their mouths worked against one another, slightly open and panting.

It wasn't long before both men were pawing at each other, shirts lay discarded by the bed along with Dec's pyjama bottoms. Skin on skin, writhing against one another; eyes clouded with lust and desperation. Dec's mind was racing, he could barely believe that he was here, in his old room, on his old bed with best friend; attached at the mouth as they all but dry humped one another into the mattress. They were on fire, heated and each aching for the other. Dec had wanted this for far longer than he could remember and as the very tips of Ant's fingers slid beneath the waist band of Dec's boxer shorts, Dec couldn't help but moan into the kiss; a low, rough animalistic growl.

"I've never heard you make that noise before." Ant smirked, now toying with with the waistband of Dec's underwear.

"Don't go teasin' us, like." the other man panted, desperate, horny and now painfully hard. Dec's erection was visibly straining against the thin material of his boxers and although he knew it was wrong, Ant felt a sense of pride at being able to have his partner all but begging for his touch.

"What d'ya want me to do, Declan?" Ant whispered, tongue warm and wet against Dec's earlobe. Before Dec was able to form any kind of coherent response he was cut off by the slamming of the front door and his mother's calls from the bottom of the stairs.

"Lads, Moyra's here. Are ye comin' down?" Anne called. Dec threw his head back in frustration and groaned. This wasn't happening, how could it be? How was it, Declan wondered, that his mother, his own mother was playing captain cock block?

"We'll finish this later, aye?" Ant suggested, stealing a quick kiss and withdrawing his hand from his boyfriend's boxers, grabbing his clothes from the floor and dressing himself as quickly as he could.

"Doesn't look as though we've got much choice, does it? Cannat get any privacy around here, like." Dec huffed, adjusting himself and pulling on a fresh pair of jeans. "and listen..." Dec started, taking hold of Ant's hand. "Let's keep this quiet for now, aye? Until after the weddin', like."

"Whatever you want, pet." Ant smiled, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on Dec's forehead before both men dropped their hands and ventured downstairs, certain of one thing only; the fresh hell that awaited them was that of a day of wedding talk and stolen kisses.


End file.
